Abomination
by 1Past and Present1
Summary: In the pursuit of pleasure, Rika and Renamon overstep themselves.
1. Chapter 1

"The two of you, living alone, together, in that apartment…"

"We're happy, mom. And what we do in private is our business."

"Yes, but–"

"Isn't that enough? That I'm happy?"

"But I…" Sometimes, it's as if Rumiko hasn't changed as much as Rika had thought. "I want what's best for you…"

"Renamon is best for me." Daughter does not bring up mother's divorce. "And we've decided that this is what we want."

"Are you sure, though?"

"Relax, mom. I'm sure."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I don't mean to disregard your… relationship…"

"Let's drop it, okay?"

"I know Renamon is a good partner."

"Mom."

"And I know that you aren't a fan of starting a more… conventional family… "

"Why's it gotta be conventional? I've never been conventional."

"It doesn't, sweetie. I love you as you are and I'll support you. But I just don't want to see you to lock yourself away. You have so many options at your age, with your looks."

"And I've made my choice."

"I wish I knew how to talk to you about this."

"I already have a family. You and Renamon are my family. Non-conventional, sure, but I don't want to start another. Not with some hypothetical husband, anyway."

"I must sound so silly."

"No, mom, you don't. I get it."

"Would you at least reconsider, then? You have time."

"No."

"Rika!"

"If you can't be supportive, mom, then–"

"Renamon is worthy of you. I don't doubt it. But she isn't–"

"Human!"

"Rika, please."

"She isn't human! I know that! So what?"

"There is nothing wrong with her. But you do understand what I–"

"You told me when I was a girl that I should decide for myself. Like how you chose dad, no matter what people said."

"Oh, my little girl."

"Accept it or leave it alone, mom – I chose her."

Mother and daughter had stopped arguing further that night, spending the rest of their time together poised unhappily over glasses of wine, before anything irreparable was said. That was years ago.

Rebellious piercings, tussled jacket, ripped jeans and hard eyes, Rika still embodies beloved dread. "Hi, mom."

Rumiko smiles a strained but loving smile, refusing to stare at the tattoo that snakes its way up her daughter's supple neck. "Hello, sweetie." A motherly heart aches at the thought of tender womanhood fading away, unappreciated by a strong and noble man.

They sit opposite one another, intending a light lunch with minimum hostility. Rika and Rumiko love each other dearly, but if they still fail to meet eye to eye.

Mother reaches for her daughter's hand, finding it at rest on the tablecloth, clasping it fondly.

"It's nice to see you," Rika says with a quiet, lopsided smile that has broken a few hearts. "You're looking great, mom."

"Yes, you too, sweetie. I like your jacket."

"Thanks." Rika's fiery hair is tied back, as usual. Strands of it fall forward, refusing to be tamed, framing her intense eyes. "Those pearls are new. Very fancy."

Mother and daughter talk in hushed tones for the next two and a half hours, sometimes laughing at something someone said, enjoying light lunch without appetites. Then they part ways with airy cheek-kisses and the shared question – would a hug have been more appropriate?

* * *

The door to the apartment opens, then shuts.

"I'm home."

Renamon does not open her eyes, as if she is deeply, dreamlessly asleep. The only visual indication of her rise in excitement is the flick of her tail, before it demurely resettles around her folded legs.

Rika steps out of her shoes, tossing her jacket on the hook and dropping her keys in a little ceramic bowl. She leaves behind the bagged groceries she picked up on her way home, stretching as she goes.

The Digimon's long ears follow the soft pitter-patter of feet in cotton socks, the rattling of a Digivice against a hip as her Tamer's familiar presence draws closer, to be met with comforting warmth in kind.

Rika comes to a gentle stop beside the couch, leaning over Renamon's curled form, as if discovering some absurdly huge housecat.

The Digimon sighs contentedly when her Tamer's hand descends, caressing the thick snowy fur that conceals a muscular neck.

"I got you some yoghurt."

Blue eyes suddenly open. The tail flicks again, accompanied by the slight tilt of a fox-like head.

"No need to get cute. Move over, kitten."

Renamon silkily rises atop the couch, her back arching under Rika's wandering hand. The Digimon quietly shifts aside before reclining lazily again on some cushions, allowing her Tamer to collapse into the vacant space left behind, warm.

"I also got us some crackers."

"There goes my diet."

Rika tilts her head back with a chuckle, placing her arms in her lap, ungainly and crude.

"How is your mother?"

"You know how she is."

The Digimon gives her Tamer a searching, patient look.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting this upsets you, too."

Renamon slowly lowers her head onto her paws, giving Rika a kinder look.

"Mom is wonderful. I'm a terrible daughter."

"You were never adept at showing yourself fairness."

"Oh, Renamon. Maybe I should just… I dunno." Rika shrugs, then slumps. "Tell me what to do. You're always right about everything."

"I think you should forgive yourself," murmurs the Digimon in her deep, velvety voice, soft-spoken and mild.

"I'm disappointing," answers her Tamer, tired and vaguely angry. "But I'm in one piece, thanks to you."

Renamon continues to watch Rika, chin resting on paws, snout tucked behind a curved tail.

"Anyway." The Tamer reaches over for a quick pat on her Digimon's thigh. "How are you doing? Did you have a nice day?"

"You are here."

Rika smirks up at the ceiling, then turns to gaze at her partner, still smirking.

Renamon tilts her head a little further.

"What did I tell you about being cute?"

Blue eyes momentarily vanish with a blink.

"Whatever. Have you been napping all morning?"

"No. I read a little. Had a quick run. Conversed with the neighbourhood stray cats and dogs."

"Did they say anything interesting?"

"They never do."

"And you didn't eat any of them, right?"

"I did not."

"Good girl."

"After that, I had a wonderful dream."

"Oh?" Hands now reach behind a red head, fussing with the band that keeps glossy tresses tied together. "What'd you dream about?"

"A day in the park." The Digimon's eyes widen as her Tamer's hair tumbles free, cascading. "It was bright and warm."

Arms falling into a denim-clad lap, Rika's brows are gently bent. "What'd you do, in your dream?"

"I played with you."

"I bet I made that difficult. Did I complain a lot?"

"Actually, you were quite amiable."

"Was I a kid, again?"

"No."

"Was I drunk?"

"No," Renamon repeats, amusement evident in her voice, in the way her eyes gleam.

"Dream-me sounds kinda nice."

"We were running." The tip of the Digimon's tail flicks upward, like a paintbrush dipped in snow. "You were chasing me."

"Shit, reminds me – I've gotten a bit out of shape."

"You're lovely, Rika."

The Tamer reaches, again, fondly tracing the symbol that adorns her partner's firm thigh. "Did I catch you, in your dream?"

"I don't know. I woke up."

"That's kinda anticlimactic."

Renamon blinks again.

Rika's fingers stop their sensual trail. "Hey."

"Mm?"

"We should play, sometime. Like in your dream."

The Digimon's razor-sharp claws sink into a cushion, without piercing the fabric. "And when you catch me?"

"Do you really think I can?"

"I know it. But I do wonder, what will you do with me, once you've caught me?"

"C'mon, take a guess."

"Are you sure you want to give me such power, Rika?"

"Just this once, Renamon."

With a husky chuckle the Digimon lazily rolls over, baring her fluffy bosom and firm stomach to her Tamer.

"I'm waiting."

Renamon stretches her arms, reaching for the ceiling, enjoying the pull on her muscles.

"Should I tickle an answer out of you?"

"I won't refuse."

"You tease."

"So you say. Once you've caught me, I suspect you'll put a saddle on my back and ride me around, like a pony."

"Ooh. Sounds like fun." Rika gives her partner's thigh a playful squeeze. "The saddle makes it a little kinky, though."

"As is your wish." The Digimon's elusive, toothy grin is visible from this angle. "Tea?"

"Yeah, sure." The Tamer takes back her hand, rubbing her jaw.

Renamon eases herself upright with a grunt. She briefly shakes her shoulders, as if to rearrange her fur. It's a bit like when she gets out of the shower, slick and dripping.

"We're getting old, the pair of us."

"Be thankful that I don't age in dog years."

"I am." Rika watches her partner nimbly dismount the couch, sauntering elegantly toward the kitchen. It's tempting to take a swipe at the tail that wafts like smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

Rika had dragged her hand slowly down the sleek, muscular abdomen presented to her, until fingers dipped between open thighs and caressed her partner's groin.

Renamon didn't moan or squeal or do anything aside from breathe, eyes closed, jaws open, as if willing and waiting for something to happen.

Her Tamer then felt a spike of sickening panic, remembering the lack of discernible genitals. Moments passed where she was frozen in fear, like this, her own pleasure waning.

"Rika?"

"I'm sorry, Renamon," was the quietly admitted defeat. "I don't know what to do."

"Neither do I."

"I… Okay, but…"

"Just touch me," her Digimon had said, gentle, inviting.

"But… I'm not sure if I can… Y'know."

"Trust me, Rika."

"I do, Renamon. And I want to make you feel good. I'm just… I'm scared you won't like this. That I'll screw it up."

"Trust me." Blue slits appeared in the dim of the bedroom, fondly wandering over the flushed, terrified teen overhead, paws carefully kneading breasts. "I'm thoroughly enjoying you."

"Really?"

A kiss closed their distance, unimpeded by the differences of their bodies.

Since then, Rika has tried to accept Renamon's inability to orgasm. To see sex as something between them that is shared, not one-sided or exploitative.

A hot, wet tongue laps at inked skin, as if to taste the fluttering pulse beneath.

Her eyes are closed. She feels safest when submissive like this, sprawled vulnerably underneath her partner's powerful body, helpless against the tender attentiveness that sets her flesh on fire.

Rumiko cannot understand, for their lovemaking is something that cannot be explained.

Rika doesn't understand it, either.

* * *

"Wanna go to the park, later?"

For a moment, Renamon laughs quietly, deeply, leaning against the tiled wall with her fur uncombed.

Rika is preparing a late breakfast at the stove, wearing nothing to conceal herself. In the sunlight that streams in through frail white curtains, the battle scars gleam as faintly silver criss-crosses. Her figure is strong and supple, but not as firm as it used to be.

"I'd love to."

She tosses aside a fierce smirk, red hair tossed also, allowing her eyes to bathe in sunbeams. "Then it's a date, yeah?"

The Digimon simply moves in reply, pushing herself off of the wall and striding closer, until her chest presses snugly against her Tamer's back, sturdy hips settling familiarly in the grasp of talons.

Rika kisses Renamon's muzzle, overhanging a naked shoulder, and stirs the contents of the pan.

"Mm." A little black nose twitches. "That smells fittingly delicious."

"Not as much as you."

"Careful, Rika. I am in a frisky mood."

"Your definition of 'fisky' is my favourite mood, Renamon."

The Digimon rests her head against her Tamer's.

"So, about the park."

"Mm?"

"I'm thinking… a picnic."

"Wonderful."

"Should I call the guys?"

"It would be nice to see them."

"Even Terriermon?"

"I didn't eat him the last time we met, did I?"

"Ah, point taken."

"Will you chase me?"

"And make a total fool of myself in front of the gang?" Rika nuzzles Renamon. "For you, of course."

"Guilmon would love that. He always begged you to roughhouse with him."

"And when I did, he knocked me on my ass."

The Digimon nods slowly, reminiscing with her Tamer, as if sharing thoughts. "And slobbered all over your face."

"Takato and Henry laughed so hard. Those assholes didn't do shit to help. Thank goodness for Jeri. She was in tears. Happy tears. And she fell on me, trying to rescue me from Guilmon."

"You two stank of peanut butter for days, afterward."

"Heh, I try to blot out that part." Rika turns down the heat, then skewers a browned, buttered mushroom on a nearby fork. "And you!"

"Me?"

After blowing cold air onto the mushroom, she directs the fork at Renamon.

The Digimon opens her mouth, sharp teeth gleaming white, and neatly pulls the mushroom from the prongs.

"You didn't step in until I tried to call your name underneath all that tongue. How is it?"

Contentedly chewing, Renamon's claws drift across Rika's lower stomach, allowing for a more engulfing embrace.

"Good, because you'll need your strength to outrun me, later."

Swallowing, the Digimon then murmurs seductively against her Tamer's cheek, "I am looking very forward to it."

"And maybe I'll get my revenge on Guilmon."

"Perhaps I'll finally eat Terriermon. Regardless, I want to roll in the grass."

"You big puppy. You'll get leaves in your fur."

"Then you'll have to take them out of my coat, one at a time, in that gentle but grouchy way only you can."

Rika grins, tracing Renamon's toned forearms beneath the sleeves. She never knew she could have something like this. That she could be so loved. That she could return such love in kind.

* * *

Jeri, Takato and Henry are already here, accompanied by happy Digimon partners, save for one.

Years after Leomon's death, Rika still feels a pang, but disguises it, her eyes on the heavily pregnant woman sitting on the bench.

Jeri is smiling at the antics of everyone else. Still so lonely, after all this time, all this love, as if the hole he left cannot be filled.

Rika's heart is pounding. She takes her time in reaching them. She has an odd affinity for Jeri, a protective desire to see the delicate little woman smile like the child she hardly got to be.

Guilmon shares Jeri's bench. Despite his keen nose, which is distracted with the basket of food in his claws, she is the first to notice the approaching redhead.

Rika feels another pang, answering the almost invisible wave with another.

The two men, one of whom is Jeri's husband, stand over the bench, broad-shouldered and square-jawed, chatting amiably. Takato absentmindedly massages the feminine shoulders beneath his hands whilst Henry speaks through Terriermon's playful efforts at obstructing the words with his ears.

Rika is getting close, now. She is about to announce her arrival with something scathingly affectionate when Renamon drops from a treetop.

"Boo," she says, relishing Terriermon's squeal.

Guilmon makes a funny noise of excitement. "Renamon!"

Jeri quickly takes the basket.

Terriermon gets some satisfaction from watching Guilmon fall off the bench in his scrabbling effort to reach Renamon first, plunging into her arms with enough force to throw her off-balance.

"Muahaha! Destroy her!"

"Momentai," says Henry in his typically sedate, amused way, turning to smile handsomely at Rika. "Hey, you."

"Hi!" Takato's smile is bigger. He is wearing his old goggles, one of the lenses cracked. "This was a great idea!"

Jeri's dark eyes are warm and kind.

"I know." Rika sets down the items she had prepared for this, making a show of sighing melodramatically at their excitement. "Well, let's get the hugs over with. Come and get me, folks."

Takato releases his wife and runs, pushing past Henry and Terriermon, throwing his arms around one of his best friends.

The redhead returns his embrace with the intimate stoicism that she has become known for, noting that the man has picked up weight. It's comforting and to be expected from a baker, like his parents.

"It's so good to see you," Takato whispers in Rika's ear. And he means it with every fibre of his being.

"I'm happy to see you, too, you Gogglehead."

"We don't do this often enough. I don't see you often enough."

"You know me and Renamon."

"Yeah, I do."

From over his shoulder, Rika tries to reassure Jeri with hard eyes, thankful for the softness of understanding and trust that is communicated back. It's awkward, knowing that they have both been the objects of desire, only one of whom actually committed.

Takato slowly lets go, taking a respectful step away from Rika.

This close, she can see the scar beneath his left eye.

"Can I have a turn?"

"Oh, sure, man." An embarrassed laugh as he returns to his waiting wife. "Sorry."

Henry and Terriermon move in unison, enveloping Rika together.

"Wow, you're not as old looking as I'd expected! It's only been, what, a hundred years!"

"Don't mind him."

"I won't," she murmurs, blindly fussing with a spiked head. "For now."

They part with a shared laugh.

Rika glances at Renamon, who has recovered from Guilmon's adoration and moved to the bench, accepting a caress on her chest from Takato whilst reaching for Jeri's hand, holding delicate fingers within a comparatively crude paw.

Guilmon bounds over just then, burying his head in Rika's stomach. "Yay, you're here, too!"

"Of course, you scamp." She runs her hands along his hard head, his twitching ears, until he growls playfully. She knows that she should make more effort to see her friends, her mother, her grandmother's grave. Rika doesn't want to sever herself from her past. But she seems prone to withdrawals.

Guilmon suddenly clasps her arm in his claws and darts away, dragging her over to the bench, causing her no pain or discomfort. "See, the bun in the oven is almost ready!" Typical for Takato to use a baking metaphor to explain pregnancy and childbirth.

Jeri is about to rise when Rika stills her with a kiss on the forehead.

"Aw."

One woman melds into the other, sinking into the hug that follows.

"That's kinda cute, huh?"

One woman unthinkingly touches the other's stomach.

"Okay, now things are getting a little weird."

"Terriermon, I can still send you home."

"Momentai, Henry, remember?"

Rika feels the life under her hands and it takes her breath away.

Jeri is beautiful, with a femininity that the taller, stronger woman marvels at whenever they meet, almost as much as Rika marvels at this unborn child.

"You can have one of your own, someday, you know." Henry winks at Renamon, who is grazing against his arm in a friendly way and lending her shoulder to Terriermon.

"Ooh. You're comfy, you know that?"

"Thanks, I do try."

"Yeah, right."

"I'd make a terrible mother," Rika says, mostly to herself, after a few seconds of critical thought.

Renamon has no trouble overhearing, blue eyes careful to conceal any emotion.

"I think you'd be a fun parent." Jeri doesn't mind the overly careful movement as Rika sits beside her.

"I'd be interesting, at least."

"You and Renamon would be great moms," says Takato in his optimistic, kindly way, so much the boy, still.

"Thanks, Gogglehead." Rika tries not to blush in the open-minded acceptance of her friends, avoiding Renamon's cold gaze. "You've gotten so…"

"Big?"

"That doesn't sound flattering, but yeah."

"It's okay." Jeri's stomach shifts a little beneath her dress. "It's been a while. I must seem like a balloon, to you."

"That's what I said." Takato chuckles good-naturedly, massaging his wife's shoulders. "But not the balloon part. So, where're we gonna set up?"

"I like the look of that spot over there," answers Guilmon whilst taking the basket gently from Jeri, licking her cheek once before galloping over to said spot.

They watch him go with expressions of fondness unique to each face.

"Over here, over here! No, wait, a little closer to that tree… Here!"

"He's such a dolt."

"See the pretty flowers, Takatomon?" the Digimon bellows some distance away, using that pet name casually, now, without need.

"I sure do, boy!"

"That seems like a good place." Henry looks between them. "Guys?"

They agree.

"Right, then!" Assuming a leadership role that isn't arrogant or bullying, Takato gives his wife's shoulders one final squeeze before helping Henry and Renamon with collecting and carrying their things. "Let's get this picnic underway!"

Rika offers her arm, which Jeri accepts, easing the pregnant woman to her feet. Together they follow the others. It is a short trek, but they take it slowly. By the time they step into the bed of freely growing flowers, the others have begun to unpack.

"No, don't do it that way!"

"How shall I proceed, then?"

"And here I thought you were the smart one, after Henry and me."

"Henry and I."

"Don't correct me when you can't even lay out a blanket just right!"

"Your 'just right' has yet to be defined. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're merely pestering me."

"Sheesh. Like I would do such a thing." Terriermon makes an exasperated noise on Renamon's shoulder. "Henry, maybe you should take over. This one is having some trouble."

The larger Digimon takes a casual swipe at the nuisance, sending him careening harmlessly onto the blanket.

"Hey! We were having a moment!"

"This may be the day I learn what you taste like."

"I'm flattered, really, but our moment aside, you're not my type."

"Why, you little–"

"Henry! Aah!"

"Nope."

"What d'you mean, 'nope'?"

"I'm busy."

"Your partner is in peril, here!"

"You're on your own this time, buddy." The man sighs, reaching into his camping bag. "You do love to antagonise."

Guilmon stops following an ambling butterfly, pursuing Renamon when she dashes past him, in turn pursuing Terriermon.

Rika is between Jeri and Takato, asking about the pregnancy, trying not to seem too curious.

"Momentai, Renamon, momentai!"

The three of them pause to watch the game.

"I'll save you, Terriermon!" True to his word, Guilmon lunges onto Renamon's back, slowing her down enough for her intended target to scamper up the nearby tree.

"Whew, thanks! That was a close one!" Terriermon stoops over, paws on his knees, catching his breaths in pants. "Man, I gotta work out, more. Next time, I might not be so lucky."

Renamon could climb with Guilmon, but she bows under his weight instead, pretending to collapse, repaid with his delight.

"We've come so far," murmurs Takato, his arm around Jeri, her head on his shoulder.

Rika nods, joined by Henry, who ruffles her red hair despite her answering scowl.

Renamon teasingly bares her teeth under Guilmon's nuzzling snout, to match Terriermon's belittling facial expression from the tenuous safety of his branch. Sometimes, one must know when to accept defeat for the benefit of others.


	3. Chapter 3

As a child, Rika had been lonely and resentful and misunderstood.

The other children admired her, envied her, feared her, but they generally kept away. The few who dared to try to befriend were consequently bitten, then frequently left bitter and unwilling to try again, afterward.

Takato and Henry were the primary agents in changing that. The boys and their Digimon refused to give up, even after backing down to grant breathing space. It wasn't merely circumstances that brought the team together, but a desire to connect.

Suddenly, Rika had found herself to be not only popular, but also well-liked. She was invited to birthdays and other social events. Her own parties were attended with enthusiasm. She found it safe enough to smile and to laugh and to talk and to play. There were shoulders to lean on, even if she dared not to cry. She remained independent and antisocial at her core, which suited her fine, as she had Renamon. And the Digimon was the perfect partner.

Then Renamon was gone.

During the absence of all the Digimon of the world, Rika had experienced a depth to her depression which, at times, almost convinced her that she would lose her mind. As if a part of herself had been wrenched away, alive somewhere else, leaving her incomplete.

It was unnatural, this separation. More unnatural than the bond itself.

When she closed her eyes and called her partner's name, it didn't seem to be an illusion that Renamon distantly answered. There was the sensation of shared heartache that cared not for impossibilities.

Then the Digimon came back.

Renamon came back.

Humanity had to choose. Some people still disagree with that choice.

Rika is whole, again, but defective, damaged. She watches Digimon she has never met before engaging in play and conversation with their Tamers and wild counterparts, inevitably discovering Guilmon, Terriermon and Renamon in the process of enjoying the afternoon.

Some children hurry over with excitement, others nervously hang back. Hands are held out to friendly muzzles and claws, living proof that minds and hearts can be changed.

"Hi!" Guilmon cheerfully calls to each child and Digimon he passes. "Wanna play? I know lots of games!" He is happy most of all that the world allows him to move freely within it, to have a face and a voice, to make friends. He doesn't have to be kept a secret, anymore.

Terriermon stands on a rock so as to be seen as well as heard, telling a story that is spontaneously developing as he goes, enrapturing his audience.

Standing some distance away, Renamon keeps very still and calm, permitting tiny hands to stroke her soft fur.

Jeri would normally have something sweet to say, but she currently sleeps on Takato's chest, his strong fingers clasping her belly, their wedding rings gleaming.

A child asks to be carried.

Renamon politely declines, but compensates with a hug. She ends up giving multiple hugs to multiple children, until she gazes up at her Tamer, overwhelmed.

A smile.

A helpless look.

"Don't mind me, guys." Rika eases herself off of the blanket, standing and flexing her arms. "I'm gonna go rescue her."

"Sure thing," says Henry, before returning to his soft-spoken chat with Takato.

Renamon watches Rika's casual, strolling advance, tail thrashing.

"Hey, kids. Having fun?"

Some of the children recognise the ambling redhead.

"Whoa, I saw you on TV!"

She draws to a stop, heroically posing.

"Me too! In a magazine!"

"And me! I saw you on a website my daddy likes!"

Rika deflates. "Oh."

"This is your Digimon, isn't she?" asks a girl in a pink dress, swaying on her bare feet, smiling.

"Actually, Renamon and I are partners. Best friends, but better."

"Oooh…"

"Can I have a partner, too?" a boy projects with unnecessary loudness, tugging on Rika's belt, close to her Digivice.

"If you meet the right Digimon, sure."

"The right Digimon?"

"Every Tamer has one special Digimon friend. When they meet, it's like two halves coming together."

This is too complex for the children to fully understand, but it does make them gasp fittingly.

"How will I know if I meet the right Digimon?" asks a boy with glasses, one of the older children in the group.

"It's different for every Tamer. You'll just know." As if to demonstrate, Rika reaches for her partner. "Maybe not at first, but when it happens, it's the greatest feeling, ever."

Renamon enjoys a scratch on her neck.

"Cool…"

"You fight nasty Digimon!"

"Renamon and I used to. Not so much, anymore."

"I wanna fight!"

"Why would you want something like that?"

"It's awesome! I want my Digimon to be big and he's gotta have lots of teeth! Like this!" The rambunctious boy illustrates, reminding Rika of a shark.

"You know," she says mildly, leaning on Renemon's arm, "being a Tamer is about way more than just fighting."

The Digimon likes the tone of voice her partner uses. It's affectionate, but it isn't patronising.

"A Tamer and their Digimon friend play games, go on adventures, and spend quiet time together, too."

"Tell us about your adventures!"

"Story time!"

"Yeah!"

"If a story is what you're looking for, why don't you go over there and hang out with Terriermon? He's much better at talking than we are."

"Aw!"

Rika and Renamon move together, caressing heads and squeezing shoulders as they wade through the small group, stepping out into the open.

"Sorry, kids, but we've gotta go do some partner stuff."

The children sound their displeasure, then their excitement.

"Whoa! You gonna go fight bad Digimon?"

"Take us with!"

"Yeah! We wanna see, too!"

"Maybe we can help?"

"Thanks, guys, but no fighting, today. Renamon and I are having fun. Like you guys."

Confusion, disappointment and intrigue reflect without guise in youthful eyes.

"We Digimon are not that different from you humans," says Renamon in a gentle, patient tone. "We enjoy games as much as you do."

"So, why don't you go and hang out with some of the other Digimon? My friends Terriermon and Guilmon are lots of fun. Way more fun than Renamon and I."

"Excuse me," the fox-like Digimon whispers to her Tamer, "I am plenty of fun."

"You have a sweet stuck in your fur," her partner whispers back, fingers interweaving with a paw.

"Please take it out once they're gone."

"No problem. Run along, kids. Renamon and I have gotta go now, okay?"

The crowd disperses, some of the children more reluctant than others.

"I am not very good at this," mutters the Tamer, affectionately elbowed by her partner.

"You did very well." The Digimon smiles, a gesture rarely seen. "I always enjoy seeing you interact with the little ones."

"Because I'm such a grumpy oaf."

"Not at all. As for that sweet."

Rika pulls something sticky out of Renamon's fur before tossing the sweet into the closest trashcan with good aim. "Score."

Digimon and Tamer then turn to walk together in silence, for a while.

"I wish Impmon were here."

"Yeah, me too."

"And little Calumon."

"And everyone else."

"Time brings people closer together. Time also pulls people further apart."

"Time can be a bitch. But me, I'm the worst."

"As am I. Let's not dwell on such things."

"Right. Far too nice a day to get too introspective."

The partners draw to a stop.

"Ready?"

"On the count of three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three," whispers Rika, red hair stirred by the breeze of her partner's thrusting body.

Renamon sprints ahead with a laugh, carrying herself on long, muscular legs, nimbly dodging amazed onlookers and obstacles in her path, keeping away from the general traffic of bodies.

Rika takes a deep breath, bracing herself on her scuffed running shoes, before vaulting forward.

The Digimon takes the rugged way, relying only on the paws that hit the ground almost noiselessly beneath her, barely flattening leaves and blades of grass.

Without Rumiko fussing over her daughter's weight and waistline, the Tamer has lost some of her speed, strength and endurance to neglect. But even at the teenage prime of the past, Rika has never had any chance of outrunning her partner. Catching Renamon like this will always be impossible, despite the reassurance otherwise.

But they run, anyway.

The Digimon's fur is stirred by the wind, her muscular curves drinking the intervals between dappled sunlight and shadows as she passes beneath a leafy canopy. She's like a dream, conjured by a brain partially deprived of oxygen, drinking air liberally between burning, breathless heartbeats.

The Tamer finally comes skidding to a halt, then doubling over whilst catching herself on a tree, panting.

The dream materialises into reality as Renamon's paws capture Rika's shoulders.


	4. Chapter 4

The dangerous glint of metal – a wrench in the grip of a fist.

"Rika."

The cutting wind and roaring engines almost drowned out the screams of friends.

"Rika, you're dreaming."

_I want…_

"Rika, wake up."

_To sing._

Her father was walking away.

She thrusts her body upward with a cry, instinctively throwing her fist at the looming shadow that touches her, knuckles connecting with muscular velvet.

A low grunt. Blue eyes squeeze shut, then ease open.

Rika is horribly fixated upon the shadow that takes familiar form. "R-Renamon…?"

"You are safe," murmurs her Digimon in a calm, reassuring way, despite the fist imbedded shallowly in her cheek, turning the fox-like head very slightly aside. "It's alright."

Her Tamer shudders, then whimpers, quickly drawing the offending limb toward her chest.

Renamon leans in, bowing humbly so as to touch her forehead against Rika's, large paws on a naked ribcage.

"I'm sorry," whispers the Tamer in the dim bedroom, legs shifting beneath the covers.

The Digimon feels the tears soak into her fur.

Rika has always despised crying. "I treat you l-like shit." She angrily sniffs, driving that same fist into her breast.

"That is untrue."

She steadies her voice, gritting her teeth. "I'm a horrible, fucked up–

"Stop that."

"This isn't right!"

Renamon guides her partner into a gentle, careful embrace, tail curling protectively about a slender waist.

"I keep hurting you…"

"And you give me so much happiness."

"Do I really?"

The moment of hesitation could have spanned their remaining lifetimes.

"Renamon?"

"Things are not perfect. But I love you. I don't want to be anywhere else. I don't want to be with anyone else. You do make me happy. You are the greatest happiness I have ever known."

Tamer breathes against her Digimon. "Why do you love me?"

"I have many reasons. You are my partner, my friend, my soulmate."

"I've never believed in soulmates."

"You believe in me."

"Yeah, and I've always treated you like garbage. I'm such a dick. Do you choose to love me, or it something to do with being my partner?"

"I told you to stop."

"Renamon."

"Rika. What about those things you told the children, back there, in the park?"

"I know. But I'm a bad Tamer and you are a good Digimon. Either you're a weapon, or a punching bag. But you love me, anyway." Rika breathes in deeply, shakily, then lets it out in a huff. "Sometimes, you look at me like there's really hope. I wanted to believe in me, too, but I dunno if I can, anymore."

Renamon says nothing, her claws tracing shapes over skin, snowy digits tangling within red strands.

"All those years are gone, now, and we can't get them back. All these years, and I haven't really changed as much as we want to think I have. Kinda like my mom. Oh, hell."

The Digimon allows her Tamer to push back, separating their bodies, letting the cold come in-between.

"But I still love you."

Blue eyes downcast themselves. Burdened by disappointment and hurt and a desire to finally, truly understand. To be entirely accepted. To breach this chasm. To share pleasure, equally, as they are.

"I love you and you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Blue eyes slowly close. An expression eerily akin to defeat.

The rustling of flesh against fabric. A blanket being peeled back, legs emerging from beneath. The creak of the floor as feet firmly plant themselves, burdened by the weight of rising, then standing.

"Where are you going?"

* * *

The water cannot fall hard enough, hot enough, to sufficiently punish a guilty conscience.

The urge to cry is still there, aggravated, now, and humiliating.

The curtain is suddenly pulled aside, a paw plunging through steam and the downpour, an extended arm providing a shield as talons seize a faucet, hurriedly turning the temperature down.

Rika's skin is flushed.

Renamon wants to be angry, but she can't.

"Come here."

"This is no way to–"

"I know."

She steps further into the shower, pulling the curtain closed after herself.

The Tamer instinctively collapses backward, falling securely against her partner's firm, fluffy chest, reaching around for leverage, fingernails raking through fur that is getting increasingly wet, causing a rippling cascade of muscles.

The Digimon releases the faucet, gently capturing tattoos and scars.

"I love you so much…"

"Please, forgive yourself."

"Why am I so broken? Why couldn't I have a… a nice childhood? Why did I grow to be so mean?"

Renamon buries her nose in Rika's hair.

"Why can't I be stronger, more like you? Why can't I be deserving?"

The Digimon shakes her head slowly, careful not to injure any further.

Her Tamer thinks about their friends. All the love and it's never enough, like a bottomless pit that cannot be filled. Echoing gestures and words in the darkness.

Renamon understands that this is a request for sex. A distraction. Pleasure instead of pain. "I don't want this," she whispers, the words muffled. "I don't want you to associate this with–"

"Then go." Rika can feel the flinch. "You've done more than enough. I won't try to burn myself, again. It's okay."

"I don't want to leave you."

"Alright."

"Let me stay."

"You're my equal. I keep telling you."

"Then, I choose to stay."

"In that case…" The Tamer reaches for the bottle of shampoo. Judges by the weight of it that the bottle is about half empty. "I guess we'll wash up."

The Digimon allows her partner to stiffen and turn around, muzzle grazing through red until met with a kiss and the aroma of berries.

Having poured a little shampoo into a cupped hand, Rika then places her palm over Renamon's bosom, rubbing slow circles in dripping, frothing white.

The Digimon's blue eyes narrow with appreciation in response to the lathering massage. Her body eases backward, offering more of herself.

Her Tamer's lips quirk subtly upward at their corners before pursuing another mouth, drinking warm water and an essence, distinct and familiar.

"You never change," Renamon had said years ago, following her partner with the intention to intercept a hurtling, maddened train with a foolhardy plan that had barely been conceived. The observation had been meant affectionately, but it was cutting, underpinned by frustration.

Rika ran, never admitting to overhearing those words.


End file.
